You won't believe what happened today at my restaurant.
I was doing some running sidework in the kitchen, and jamming out singing along to the radio (the song was "Magic" B.O.B. with Rivers Cuomo) and thinking, "Wonder who closed last night and left this station on. I wonder how long before GM switches it to elevator music?" When a fellow server came up to me and said, "Check out what the guy on 63 just said. I asked him how he was doing this morning, and he said 'Pretty good until I came in here and heard this monkey music playing.'"
My jaw dropped to the floor.
She continued on. "Then he made some kind of comment like, 'We're all white in here, aren't we?'"
Since my jaw was already on the floor, my eyes bugged out. I said, "NO WAY! You have gotta be shitting me."
"No," she said. "I swear."
My shock gave way to anger right about now. She continued to serve him and ignore the fact that he was a gigantic white supremacist chunk of smegma. She told the GM, and being the passive weiner that he is, TURNED OFF THE MUSIC ALTOGETHER..
I was outraged. I told her that KKK piece of shit was lucky she waited on him, because I would've flipped the fuck out on him. I would have told him we serve all PEOPLE here, if he didn't like it, he could crawl back to whatever sewer he popped out of. And by the way,my son is half Mexican, got anything cute to say about that?
I know that this state is a little behind the times, but I have never seen such a rampant display of racism. Anyone have any advice on how to deal with it? A happy medium between my go fuck yourself and my coworker/GMs ignorant ignoring?
One year off after high school to find out what I wanted to study turned into nearly 15 years as a server. These are my stories (and bitching, whining, ranting and raving).
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
When Good Tables Go Bad
Yesterday I waited on a group of four ladies. Appeared maybe Grandma, Mom, two teenage daughters. Three of them ordered drinks, three of them got meals, and one girl ordered two chocolate chip pancakes. Mom said, "We will also need an order of biscuits and gravy to go."
Although we have both pancakes and chocolate chips, the two are not a menu combination. We have to give the cooks the chocolate chips, and request they drop them in after they put the cakes on the grill. No problem. When I ran the food, the cakes looked a little naked,as the chips were only on the bottom. Brought extra chips on the side for the girl to put on top.
Checked back. Everything was fine. Told Mom, "Got that to go order in for you, it will be right out." (At this time I had a sixteen top in the back room I was in the midst of waiting on, but wanted to make sure Mom knew I didn't forget her request.) The biscuits come up, I drop them off, notice they appear to need boxes for the remainder of their meals. As I was caring for the party of 16, I had another server drop the boxes by, including little cups for the au jus for their French dips.
Busy, busy with the 16. Assistant manager who actually likes to help us bus tables instead of standing there watching us like our GM, clears the table. I didn't have a chance to go back until quite later. What I found on the table was astonishing.
$2.
Really. No shit. Two. Mother. Fucking. Dollars.
Their bill had to have been at least $50. In what universe is $2 a suitable tip for even mediocre service? IMHO, I gave them stellar service, with a fucking smile. They all appeared to be happy with the service and enjoy their meals.
To me this is inexcusable. Don't mindfuck me into thinking you are all happy and nicey nice, then fuck off and leave me a ridiculous tip.
Especially remember this is a small town, and I have a pretty good memory. Next time you get $2 service.
Although we have both pancakes and chocolate chips, the two are not a menu combination. We have to give the cooks the chocolate chips, and request they drop them in after they put the cakes on the grill. No problem. When I ran the food, the cakes looked a little naked,as the chips were only on the bottom. Brought extra chips on the side for the girl to put on top.
Checked back. Everything was fine. Told Mom, "Got that to go order in for you, it will be right out." (At this time I had a sixteen top in the back room I was in the midst of waiting on, but wanted to make sure Mom knew I didn't forget her request.) The biscuits come up, I drop them off, notice they appear to need boxes for the remainder of their meals. As I was caring for the party of 16, I had another server drop the boxes by, including little cups for the au jus for their French dips.
Busy, busy with the 16. Assistant manager who actually likes to help us bus tables instead of standing there watching us like our GM, clears the table. I didn't have a chance to go back until quite later. What I found on the table was astonishing.
$2.
Really. No shit. Two. Mother. Fucking. Dollars.
Their bill had to have been at least $50. In what universe is $2 a suitable tip for even mediocre service? IMHO, I gave them stellar service, with a fucking smile. They all appeared to be happy with the service and enjoy their meals.
To me this is inexcusable. Don't mindfuck me into thinking you are all happy and nicey nice, then fuck off and leave me a ridiculous tip.
Especially remember this is a small town, and I have a pretty good memory. Next time you get $2 service.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Hello, *Sniffle*, How Are You Doing today? *Sniffle* What Can I Bring You to Drink? *Sneeze*
There is nothing worse than having to wait on people when you have a head cold from Hell.
I have never really worked in any other industry, so I don't really know how it goes for other occupations when one becomes ill. I do know that at my job, if you call in sick on a Sunday, you basically fuck everyone else's world. So even though I knew I felt like hammered dog shit yesterday, and this morning, there was no option of calling off. It's a real bitch to get anyone to cover for you, especially after a lot of the employees just got their tax refunds back. Everyone is sitting pretty, financially speaking. Now around Christmas shopping time, bitches will straight poke your eye out so they can steal your shift.
So I grabbed my stash of Advil Cold and Sinus, stuffed it in my purse, sucked it up and headed out the door this morning.God bless pseudoephederine and ibuprofin, especially in that combination.
What can I say, I'm a soldier!
Arrived at work just in time to clock in without being late. Made good and sure everyone knew how close to passing out from sinus pressure and ear pain that I was. Everyone. The other servers, the hostess, the managers. I figured that way everyone would take pity and go easy on me. Maybe, just maybe, I could take off early.
Fuck no.
At least it was slow, but I still had to stay until after Church rush, and do all my sidework. Which is fine, I understand my responsibilities, but every so often miracles happen, right?
It also irks me that I have stayed and finished sidework for the other team leader at least two or three times in the past year. She was there today, but do you think she offered to stay for me, or even help me do some of my sidework so I could get the fuck outta there? Hells no. Just high-tailed it out the door like her panties were on fire.
She doesn't have to worry, I will NEVER do her ANY favors again.
Sorry to rant. I hate waiting on people when I feel like shit, am all doped up on cold meds, and my nose is running down my face. I feel like my guests are staring at me like I have gonnaherpesyphillaids, and can't wait for me to get the fuck away from them.
At least my sweet co-worker, Paula* offered to pick up my shift tomorrow. Thanks, Paula, you are one in a million. Angels really do exist! :)
*All names are changed
I have never really worked in any other industry, so I don't really know how it goes for other occupations when one becomes ill. I do know that at my job, if you call in sick on a Sunday, you basically fuck everyone else's world. So even though I knew I felt like hammered dog shit yesterday, and this morning, there was no option of calling off. It's a real bitch to get anyone to cover for you, especially after a lot of the employees just got their tax refunds back. Everyone is sitting pretty, financially speaking. Now around Christmas shopping time, bitches will straight poke your eye out so they can steal your shift.
So I grabbed my stash of Advil Cold and Sinus, stuffed it in my purse, sucked it up and headed out the door this morning.God bless pseudoephederine and ibuprofin, especially in that combination.
What can I say, I'm a soldier!
Arrived at work just in time to clock in without being late. Made good and sure everyone knew how close to passing out from sinus pressure and ear pain that I was. Everyone. The other servers, the hostess, the managers. I figured that way everyone would take pity and go easy on me. Maybe, just maybe, I could take off early.
Fuck no.
At least it was slow, but I still had to stay until after Church rush, and do all my sidework. Which is fine, I understand my responsibilities, but every so often miracles happen, right?
It also irks me that I have stayed and finished sidework for the other team leader at least two or three times in the past year. She was there today, but do you think she offered to stay for me, or even help me do some of my sidework so I could get the fuck outta there? Hells no. Just high-tailed it out the door like her panties were on fire.
She doesn't have to worry, I will NEVER do her ANY favors again.
Sorry to rant. I hate waiting on people when I feel like shit, am all doped up on cold meds, and my nose is running down my face. I feel like my guests are staring at me like I have gonnaherpesyphillaids, and can't wait for me to get the fuck away from them.
At least my sweet co-worker, Paula* offered to pick up my shift tomorrow. Thanks, Paula, you are one in a million. Angels really do exist! :)
*All names are changed
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Two Words: Basketball Tournaments
It's that lovely time of year again, the snow is melting, the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming...and tournaments are back on at the high school.
Servers at my store have a love/hate relationship with the tournaments. We love the money that we usually make, we hate waiting on teams of 15 + teenagers. The straw wrappers flying across the room, the yelling when trying to get your attention, the countless refills...and that's just the coaches!
I waited on 3 bus loads of kids between 9 am and 11:30 am on Thursday. Two of them were great, please and thank-you well-behaved young adults. The coaches on those two teams took care of the bill with purchase orders, and I got 20% gratuity from them.
The other group were a loud, immature, pesky nightmare of a group that were, "Ready."
"Oh we're not ready. Take them first."
"Shut up, Christie*. We ARE ready. We'll get our food first." As I stand there for fifteen minutes while Still-Not-Ready-Christie makes up her mind. French toast or pancakes? French toast or pancakes? Christie consults with six other girls and finally the vote is in,
Ladies and gentlemen, Christie will have the pancakes! Ta da!
Sorry Christie's unlucky friend, no you won't get your food first. See I have your seats numbered, and guess which table is going into that computer dead last? That's right, the very indecisive yet democratic Miss Christie.
After finally serving everyone, I notice the coach has already whipped out the school credit card and tells me he needs an itemized receipt. No problem. Being the awesome experienced super server that I am, I have everyones food and drink rang in by seat. Easy for the coach, easy for me, easy for the kitchen, and most importantly, easy to split the bill if for some reason the little A-holes have to pay for their own. (God forbid!)
I swipe the card and return it to him, but another bus had rolled in so I didn't get to collect the slip until after they left. I walked over hoping for 15%, praying for 20%.
$167 bill. NO TIP on the receipt.
I noticed random dollars on some of the table and realized the worst had come true.
The team was responsible for the tip.
FUCK!
NOOOOOOO!
I gathered up my pittance. $17. On $167 tab. It worked out to be a little less than $1 per person. Shitty. At least the other teams tipped better, so my overall tips for the day worked out to be more than the 10% I get taxed on.
I really don't mean to whine, everything worked out okay, but some days I really wish my restaurant had automatic gratuity on large parties. Anyone else have any war stories to share?
*All names are changed because I still need my job, when I win the lottery and become independently wealthy I promise I will out all the evil customers I have ever had. Cross your fingers for me!
Servers at my store have a love/hate relationship with the tournaments. We love the money that we usually make, we hate waiting on teams of 15 + teenagers. The straw wrappers flying across the room, the yelling when trying to get your attention, the countless refills...and that's just the coaches!
I waited on 3 bus loads of kids between 9 am and 11:30 am on Thursday. Two of them were great, please and thank-you well-behaved young adults. The coaches on those two teams took care of the bill with purchase orders, and I got 20% gratuity from them.
The other group were a loud, immature, pesky nightmare of a group that were, "Ready."
"Oh we're not ready. Take them first."
"Shut up, Christie*. We ARE ready. We'll get our food first." As I stand there for fifteen minutes while Still-Not-Ready-Christie makes up her mind. French toast or pancakes? French toast or pancakes? Christie consults with six other girls and finally the vote is in,
Ladies and gentlemen, Christie will have the pancakes! Ta da!
Sorry Christie's unlucky friend, no you won't get your food first. See I have your seats numbered, and guess which table is going into that computer dead last? That's right, the very indecisive yet democratic Miss Christie.
After finally serving everyone, I notice the coach has already whipped out the school credit card and tells me he needs an itemized receipt. No problem. Being the awesome experienced super server that I am, I have everyones food and drink rang in by seat. Easy for the coach, easy for me, easy for the kitchen, and most importantly, easy to split the bill if for some reason the little A-holes have to pay for their own. (God forbid!)
I swipe the card and return it to him, but another bus had rolled in so I didn't get to collect the slip until after they left. I walked over hoping for 15%, praying for 20%.
$167 bill. NO TIP on the receipt.
I noticed random dollars on some of the table and realized the worst had come true.
The team was responsible for the tip.
FUCK!
NOOOOOOO!
I gathered up my pittance. $17. On $167 tab. It worked out to be a little less than $1 per person. Shitty. At least the other teams tipped better, so my overall tips for the day worked out to be more than the 10% I get taxed on.
I really don't mean to whine, everything worked out okay, but some days I really wish my restaurant had automatic gratuity on large parties. Anyone else have any war stories to share?
*All names are changed because I still need my job, when I win the lottery and become independently wealthy I promise I will out all the evil customers I have ever had. Cross your fingers for me!
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